We all know someone who can seemingly cook everything under the sun. No matter if it's a simple dish or a big meal, they put it all together with ease and grace. I have several of these kind of women in my life, all of whom I hope to feature on Cora & Louise in due time.

One woman I've been admiring for her kitchen expertise & hospitality for quite some time is Cindy Bailey. People who know Cindy can attest to her culinary know-how, inviting heart and love for Turkish tea. I’m not alone in my observations or love for Cindy, my friends Paige & Jessie spoke of her spirit of hospitality as well.

"Cindy has taught me the value of making one’s home a place where people feel welcome and full. Full bellies and full hearts,” said Jessie. "There are few people who understand my love of eating food, making food, serving food, watching food TV and reading about food, but Cindy is a kindred spirit in that way.”

"Unlike any other person I know, Cindy has created a home that is welcoming & peaceful through her pleasant hospitality and incredible food. I always feel like I'm at my own home when I'm at the Bailey residence. It's a one-of-a-kind trait she possesses,” said Paige.

When Cindy chose a recipe to make for C&L I was anticipating something mildly difficult, ethnically diverse, and all together out of my league. But she surprised me. We made her mother's shortbread cookies. A recipe she grew up eating and watching her mom, Bette, bake regularly.

"She made them so much she didn't even have to think about it," Cindy said. "She didn't think she was a great cook, but she was a great dessert maker."

No surprise, desserts were a staple in their home. Bette always had cookies on hand to serve with coffee to ladies from church who would stop by. Bette would also bake a big batch of her shortbread cookies every couple weeks to send with her husband to work. According to Cindy, they made him famous at work and very popular with all of the guys.

Cindy’s same heart for loving people, hosting, and baking delicious treats has a clear origin back to the woman who raised her. After all this time, the shortbread recipe still finds itself in Cindy’s kitchen, on her mom’s recipe card. And I'm reminded time and time again that it doesn't taken an extravagant or fussy recipe to show people you care — it can be as simple as just butter, flour & a little sugar.

I've prepared many birthday cakes and treats, but birthday dinners have never been as common for some reason. My family would often celebrate with dinner out and treat ourselves to sitting and enjoying a meal prepared and served by someone other than ourselves. Looking back I’m surprised by the tradition. Mealtime was always special, and we took pride in making it ourselves. But when birthdays rolled around we all gathered at a restaurant in town and paid for our dinner. I remember nearly every year riding a fake bull (a horse saddle that was strapped to a high chair seat with fake wooden horns hanging from the front — it was very Texas) at a steakhouse in town and being sung to by off-key 20-something waiters and waitresses who announced to the entire restaurant it was your birthday. The song wasn’t complete until your waiter yelled to those around to “give a big Texas yeehaw.” This was my childhood. It was so weird.

My boyfriend, Todd, had a much simpler and likely much more normal birthday tradition — spaghetti. His mom, Sandy, has even shared with me that spaghetti was the first meal she learned to make after marrying Todd's father, Bing. She told me she knew absolutely nothing about cooking when they married, and she and Bing learned to make spaghetti together.

When I asked Todd what meal he wanted for his day I expected a night out to our favorite sushi restaurant, or to the tavern we frequent for duck tacos. Nope! Spaghetti was on his mind. This made me laugh because we honestly have that meal once a week. It’s cheap, fast, and in a pinch it’s usually what we make. We doctor up canned sauce with herbs and Italian sausage and bake simple vegetables like asparagus to serve on the side. It’s such a common meal in our home that it was probably the very last thing I expected him to want. But that’s Todd — always surprising me.

With his chosen meal in mind, I made a trip to the farmers market and scouted the tents for the prettiest, brightest, vine-ripened tomatoes I could find. I’d heard great things about the simple Marcella Hazan sauce recipe while listening to the food52 podcast one day, and had just recently purchased the cookbook the recipe is featured in, so I went for it — two pounds of tomatoes and the best Irish butter I could get my hands on.

I was wary. Three ingredients (four if you count salt) didn’t seem like enough. I thought to myself, “wouldn’t I need fresh and complicated herbs, robust red wine, and hours of simmering to bring a big bag of tomatoes to life?” No. The answer is no. You do not need fussy ingredients or multiple complicated steps to make a great sauce. The sauce was perfect. It was a pure, no-nonsense, shockingly delicious sauce. I loved it for its taste but also for its attitude. It was completely itself, not trying to be anything it wasn’t. Marcella wrote in 2004, "simple doesn't mean easy." I agree with her, simple ingredients or a simple process doesn't equate to easiness. It's often hard to overcome your expectations of what will make something great — but simple can be, and often is, great and more than enough.

Put either the prepared fresh tomatoes or the canned in a saucepan, add the butter, onion, and salt, and cook uncovered at a very slow, but steady simmer for about 45 minutes, or until it is thickened to your liking and the fat floats free from the tomato.

Stir from time to time, mashing up any large pieces of tomato with the back of a wooden spoon.

Taste and correct for salt. Before tossing with pasta, you may remove the onion (as Hazan recommended) and save for another use, but many opt to leave it in. Serve with freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano cheese for the table.

Making Fresh Tomatoes Ready for Sauce

The blanching method: (this is what I did!) Plunge the tomatoes in boiling water for a minute or less. Drain them and, as soon as they are cool enough to handle, skin them, and cut them into coarse pieces.

The freezing method (from David Tanis, via The Kitchn): Freeze tomatoes on a baking sheet until hard. Thaw again, either on the counter or under running water. Skin them and cut them into coarse pieces.

The food mill method: Wash the tomatoes in cold water, cut them lengthwise in half, and put them in a covered saucepan. Turn on the heat to medium and cook for 10 minutes. Set a food mill fitted with the disk with the largest holes over a bowl. Transfer the tomatoes with any of their juices to the mill and puree.

I went to Sarah’s blog for inspiration before writing this post about baking with her and she didn’t let me down. In between all of the photos of kitchens and babies was a Barbara Brown Taylor quote about faith living itself out in tangible ways, like cooking. "To make bread or love, to dig in the earth, to feed an animal or cook for a stranger — these activities require no extensive commentary, no lucid theology. All they require is someone willing to bend, reach, chop, stir. Most of these tasks are so full of pleasure that there is no need to complicate things by calling them holy. And yet these are the same activities that change lives, sometimes all at once and sometimes more slowly, the way dripping water changes stone. In a world where faith is often construed as a way of thinking, bodily practices remind the willing that faith is a way of life."

When Sarah asked me to help make her husband’s birthday cake, she knew I would jump at the chance. She wanted to surprise Luke for his birthday and found this cake recipe she was sure he would love. After keeping lots of secrets and planning the party for weeks on end, Sarah and I spent hours in the kitchen the day of the party perfecting the final detail of the surprise — Luke’s cake. Baking was the ultimate distraction and a way to pass the time until the party. We stirred, poured and frosted while attempting to ignore our nervousness about the surprise. We discovered an important lesson that day and Sarah has continued to learn even more since marrying Luke six months ago — I’ll let her share part of the story firsthand.

"Living, experiencing and learning with my husband has been incredible fun — especially when it comes to working together in the kitchen. There is a definite ebb and flow in our time in the kitchen; I'm always attempting new recipes that sound yummy & exciting and Luke is always bringing savory, go-to recipes to the table when my experiments fall short.

"Cooking together with Luke has & is changing my life, slowly (like Barbara Brown Taylor’s quote) and in the sweetest ways. It’s giving me more opportunities to learn about him and experience new recipes together, like this cake! This month, Luke turned 25 and I wanted him to feel so loved and celebrated since he was dreading his quarter-of-a-century birthday. I found the perfect cake recipe and the perfect food loving friend to bake it with me (thanks, KT!) — so the surprise party planning was in full swing. Fast forward to the day of the party: I learned that Luke doesn’t really like surprises, but that he does love this cake! I consider these both successes in my food adventure, because I learned more about my husband and I get to add a great cake recipe to my collection.

"I think there is something to be said about cooking for and serving those who are placed in our lives. When we allow ourselves the chance to cook for someone else or be cooked for, it fills us up. Not just our bellies, but our hearts and our spirits can be so full of satisfaction simply from sharing a meal, or a slice of cake."

For the Cake:

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream butter & sugar until light & fluffy.

Add the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition.

Add the oil & vanilla until combined.

In a separate bowl sift the flour, baking powder, salt & cinnamon. Gradually add these to the stand mixer, alternating with the milk.

Once the batter is smooth, evenly distribute amongst two greased 8 or 9-inch cake pans.

Bake for 20-25 minutes or until a toothpick inserted comes out clean. Let cool to room temperature before removing from pans

For the Frosting:

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, add butter, sugar & vanilla. Beat until light & fluffy, about 6-8 minutes.

For Assembly:

Slice each cake layer in half so you create four even layers of cake (feel free to skip this step & make a two layer cake).

Begin with a layer of cake, followed by a thick coat of frosting, followed by strawberry jam, followed by another layer of cake. Repeat. Frost the top & outside of cake as desired.

I was really lucky to grow up with parents who put dinner on the table every night — we'd get home from after school activities like soccer or gymnastics and my mom or dad would cook dinner while we did homework. When the meal was finished they'd call us to the table where we'd all sit together and eat. One of us would pick up the bread bowl from the center of the table, pass it to the person on our right and ask, "So, how was your day?"

This tradition continued when I went away to college. I remember being a terrified 18-year-old freshman getting dressed to meet with my first photo story subject over dinner, sitting nervously waiting for her to show up as if it were a first date. The nerves shook and the sharing began as soon as we broke bread together. The initial spilling of information and sharing of important details always happened at the table.

Meal time is a fundamental tradition I hold dear. One that I want to share with my children one day too. The table is where I learned to ask people how their day was and about their lives. My abnormally close relationship to my parents can also be attributed back to meal time together. It's the reason I've been able to explore so many people and places. Meals are the very thing that brought new friends and I together — and they each began by passing around the bread bowl.

In a small saucepan set over medium-low heat, warm the butter, honey and milk until butter is melted and mixture begins to steam. Do not boil. Remove from heat and let sit 5 minutes, or until the temperature is between 120-130 degrees F.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a dough hook, combine 1½ cups of the flour with the yeast and salt. Add the milk mixture and mix until combined. Add the eggs one at a time, mixing after each. With the mixer on low, add the remaining flour ¼ cup at a time until dough clears the side of the bowl but is still slightly sticky to the touch. You may not need all 3½ cups of flour.

Continue to knead the dough in the mixer until it is smooth and elastic, about 5-8 minutes. Place dough in a greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.

Gently punch down dough and knead a few times. Cover it with the plastic wrap and let it rest for 15 minutes.

On a clean surface roll the dough out into a 12-inch circle. Using a pizza slicer, cut the dough into 12 equal pieces. Working with each piece individually, roll the dough up starting with the fat end. Place the roll on a sheet pan lined with parchment paper so the skinny point is on the bottom. Cover with plastic wrap and rise again for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Brush with egg wash and bake rolls until they are golden brown, about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and immediately brush with butter, if desired. The rolls are best the day they are made but will keep in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.